For Beecher's Hope
by Das Lieblingsfach
Summary: When Jack's efforts to maintain the ranch after his family has died fails, he is forced to go to Mexico after President Abraham Reyes' rumored fortune, getting mixed up with Miranda Fortuna and her gang of rebels along the way.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

What was a man to do when his entire family died, leaving him to tend a ranch on his lonesome?

Initially, Jack Marston's response to this was to wander around the countryside and drink, picking up odd jobs to support his habit, occasionally getting into a fight here and there that just might end in someone lying in a pool of blood outside of a saloon.

This he did ritualistically for a good few months, having more or less given up on life and not yet come across the gumption to just do himself in. He figured an adequate amount of time being purposeless and stupid would eventually gift him with that.

But one Mrs. Bonnie Mulligan (nee MacFarlane) was having none of it from the son of John Marston. She tracked him down one morning when he was holed up in Armadillo with a hangover that would make angels cry, threw him out of bed, and gave him a good scolding -half of which he no longer remembers- before throwing him in a wagon and dragging him back to the MacFarlane Ranch. Sometime later, after having slept off the night before, he was again reamed out by Drew MacFarlane and that was the official end of his listless days.

It was made apparent to Jack in the coming week that he spent at MacFarlane ranch, more or less being kept hostage while he worked, that his life was in fact not purposeless, not so long as Beecher's Hope stood strong. His father, he was reminded, had worked hard to keep the ranch up. It was not in his possession for long, granted, but it had meant the world to him and it would have been a dishonor to his memory to lose it on account of drinking sadness away.

Besides that, Jack had nothing of his family left aside from the ranch. It would forever be the only standing reminder that his parents had once existed, had once tried, in vain, to get away from the life they once lead, had once hoped that they might live as normal, law-biding folk do.

Jack honestly wasn't sure if he was normal, if he was really the law-biding type, if he was worthy to be a ranch owner. What he _was_ sure of, however, was that he had a standing promise to John to always keep after it no matter what happened to any of them. He had a duty and a responsibility, both of which he was currently doing a fantastic job of shirking.

So as soon as Bonnie and Drew had confirmed that Jack had successfully reached his come-to-God moment, they sent him on his way back to Beecher's Hope with no more than the additional knowledge of ranching he had gained in that week on top of a wish for good luck. He suspected they were somewhat eager to get rid of him anyway, given that they already had three year old Hank to worry about on top of the second child Bonnie and Amos were expecting at any time. A 20 year old man in addition to that growing family was not exactly a welcome thing, even if he was helping out with the ranch work and earning his share of the food, by all means.

Truthfully though, Jack was just as eager to get gone and start work where it needed to be. The ranch had no doubt fallen into some state of ruin in the time he had been gone -a little less than a year- and he found when he arrived that he was more or less correct in that respect. But the truth of the matter was that he had tended the ranch on his lonesome back when his mother had fallen ill, so he knew that it was not entirely a feat out of his range of capability.

Still, he didn't neglect to quickly hire on help in the form of 12 year old Henry, the boy of a family who lived on MacFarlane Ranch. Henry was young and a little bit weak, but he asked for a meager salary and knew enough about ranch work to compliment Jack well. Together, the two of them began to rebuild Beecher's Hope back into the place it once was, a task that was easier talked about than done.


	2. Chapter 1 Escalera

_Chapter One- Escalera_

It was on a rather warm afternoon in early September that things began to change and the hope that Jack had for the ranch was challenged.

He knew, after all, that there was something different about Henry's tone when he came gallivanting down the dirt trail to the outside of the barn where Jack was forking hay into the cow's pen.

"Jack, Jack!" the boy called with a kind of unfamiliar urgency.

Jack redirected his attention to study Henry's pudgy red face. Something about the way it was contorted unnerved him, but he refused to make this apparent to the boy.

"Whatsamatter, Henry?" he asked with what he hoped was his typical apathy. "Don't tell me the wolves got into the chicken coop again."

"No, no, sir," Henry corrected, breathing heavily. "There are some men. I seen 'em comin' up the road."

Whatever attention Jack had remaining for the task at hand immediately dissipated, and he stopped to look Henry dead in the eye.

"Men?"

"Yeah! They look like some pepper guts, all gussied up in fancy uniforms. They're headed this way!"

Jack turned his head toward the hills, not yet able to see the men Henry was referring to but somehow already conscious of their presence. He inhaled deeply, feeling as though he had been anticipating this in some part of himself he was not entirely aware of.

"Alright," he said simply. "Why don't you go into the barn and finish milkin' them last two heifers? I'll go ahead and take care of our guests."

"Should I have my rifle ready, sir?" Henry asked, his eyes twinkling with an unmistakable amount of hope. "Just in case?"

Jack was more than a bit touched by Henry's need for an act of chivalry, but it also didn't fail to occur to him that a gun other than his own pointed from a high elevation might not be a bad idea. Henry was not a bad shot, after all, even for a twelve year old.

"Well…I don't anticipate havin' any problems, but I guess it's better to be safe than sorry. You know here to aim if I give the signal."

"I sure do!" Henry exclaimed, jumping slightly.

"Now don't get too excited, Henry. Just milk them cows, alright?"

"Yes, Jack," Henry obliged, trying –and failing- not to look too enthused about the possibility of shooting 'a bad guy' before hurrying off into the barn.

Jack had lied to him, however. It wasn't that he anticipated having problems, it was that he didn't know what to anticipate at all. Despite that inexplicable feeling deep within him that this moment had been forthcoming, that it had been one that he had been mentally preparing himself for, he had no idea what would happen, who would greet him on his side of the hill, or what they intended to do with him.

So he turned at an angle where neither Henry nor any of the animals could see him –not that the latter of the two mattered as much- and began to load his pistol.

"If there's one thing I don't like," he whispered to no one but the wind. "It's men in uniform on my land."

Sure enough, the men fitting Henry's description soon descended over the rise of the far hills, coming down the path leading directly into the heart of the ranch. They really looked nothing like the men that came the day his father died and they did not seem to have a sense of ill-will about them, but they were an army nonetheless.

As such, Jack would be greeting them with nothing less than a complete and absolute lack of fear. If they were here to bring him to join his father, he was going to go with just as much dignity.

"Buena, Senors!" Jack called charmingly as soon as they had arrived within and stilled their horses. "What brings you all to Beecher's Hope?"

The largest one out of them, a stocky man with a full dark moustache, rode to the forefront of the group and dismounted, regarding Jack with an especially warm smile.

"Hola!" he greeted back, still too far for a proper shake and so resorted to a wave. "We apologize for interrupting your work, but we have been looking endlessly for a man of interest and have been told we could find him here. Are you the owner of this land?"

Jack nodded. "Sure am."

"Gracias a Dios!" the man cried, sounding legitimately relieved. "Then you must be the John Marston we have been sent for?"

Jack chuckled a bit to himself. "Well, maybe. It's Jr., though."

"John Marston Jr.? You are his son?"

"That's right."

"Que pena! We have been sent for your father. Is he here?"

"Well, yes, in a manner of speakin'." Jack shrugged. "Probably not in the sense that you mean."

"Then where could we find him?" The stocky man asked, still smiling but clearly doing so out of a sense of forced patience.

"Right under that tree." Jack answered, gesturing half-heartedly towards the hills behind him where the remainder of his family lay. "Yep, I don't reckon he's moved from that spot since we buried him."

The Mexican leader stared wide-eyed at the far distant spot, his face seemingly having lost some color.

"Buried him?" he reiterated. "He is…muerte?"

"Si, senor. Mucho muerte. For about four years now."

The Mexican leader sighed loudly and removed his hat long enough to exasperatedly run a hand over his brow and head.

"Ay, dios mio!" he cursed to himself. "This is no good at all. Our President needed to speak to him, urgently!"

"Well, I'm awful sorry I can't be of any further assistance to you."

Jack then turned around to head back towards the barn, hopeful that would end the conversation and give the Mexican army the hint to leave. This was unfortunately futile.

"Wait, perhaps you can!" The Leader called out. "President Reyes will not believe a word we say if we try to tell him John Marston is dead. He will accuse us of lying to him."

Jack turned halfway around, still determined to make his presence here seem grudging.

"Doesn't sound like much of a President."

Disregarding this comment, The Leader continued his plea.

"Por favor, you must come with us."

"What?" Jack asked disbelievingly, snickering slightly.

The Mexican leader was not endeavoring to joke, however.

"He will believe the son of John Marston. Please senor, accompany us back to Escalera so that you can tell him."

Jack turned to the man fully, now more than a bit indignant that someone would think he would have the time and willpower to grant such a request.

"I'm afraid I can't do that for you, sir." He informed him, sternly. "I've got a ranch to run. You can tell your president to come and see the damn grave himself, if he wants the proof. He has my open invitation."

Unphased, the leader continued unabashed.

"Senor, please. He will listen to you! We will make it worth your while, we promise! What do you want? Dinero? We will give you mucho dinero!"

Jack had already begun another attempt to turn his back and return to his work on the hay, but the mention of financial compensation was enough to make him stop in his tracks- considering, especially, his dire need of it.

The leader noticed this right away, exclaiming smugly, "Aahh, you know that much Espanol, don't you, Senor?"

"How much _dinero?_" Jack demanded to know.

"Name your price!"

"A hundred."

"Ay, that is very steep, sir, for a trip here and back." The Leader laughed nervously. "Perhaps fifty will suffice?"

"Seventy."

"Sixty-five."

Jack then shook his head and laughed under his breath. "Nope, I've changed my mind. Hundred or nothin'."

"Fine!" The leader relented. "One hundred it is."

"Alright, in that case, it sounds like I'd better saddle up."

"Very good, senor!" The leader praised, having fully regained his former enthusiasm. "Muchas gracias!"

"Just give me a moment to get my affairs in order, will you?"

"Si, si, senor."

Jack quickly turned and headed towards the barn, wandering what he might have thought earlier in the day if someone were to tell him he'd be traveling to Escalera before dinner time. He was sure he would have laughed in their face, but perhaps not if they would have mentioned a theoretical hundred dollars to be paid as compensation.

The fact was the ranch was barely breaking even with its funds. This was a reality he knew he would have to face sooner or later as owner, but he supposed he had hoped that maybe things would just get better before he had to worry too extensively about any of it. This was unfortunately not shaping up to be the case, so if the Mexican army wanted to give him a handsome sum just to take a trip he would gladly accept the offer. He would have made more money doing their bidding this way than tending to the ranch in any case.

Explaining the matter to Henry, however, was another matter entirely, one he would have to figure out as soon as he opened the barn door.

Sure enough, he was bombarded with questions the moment he did so.

"Jack!" Henry exclaimed in a whisper, setting his rifle down on a nearby work table. "What did those men want? Did they give you any trouble? Are they gone now?"

Jack sighed as he grabbed a nearby saddle and began preparing his favorite steed, aptly named 'Ol' Boy', for the long ride.

"Eh, not quite any of that," he corrected, a bit hesitantly. "It looks like I'm gonna have to accompany them back."

"What? Why?"

"Well, it seems like their president was such good pals with Pa that he thought he'd have him at his beck and call. Seemed to have not realized he died sometime ago, though. So, it looks like they're needin' me to play witness so this beloved leader of theirs doesn't call 'em liars."

"You're leaving the ranch for _that_?" Henry asked, a bit disgustedly.

"I wasn't gonna initially," Jack assured him. "But they offered me a nice amount of reimbursement."

Henry began to gasp and pace nervously. "But…but…I don't think I can just run this place on my own!"

Jack paused in his efforts, vying to meet Henry's eyes. This he did as soon as the boy calmed long enough to slow down and look at him.

"I'm really sorry I'm havin' to do this to you, Henry, but it'll only be for a day. You know how much we need the money around here, particularly that salary of yours that I should have raised six months ago."

"Well...yeah..." Henry agreed hesitantly, seemingly also seduced by the reminder of financial rewards.

"I have every confidence in you, Henry, I really do," Jack said reassuringly as he hoisted himself over Ol' Boy's saddle. "Just finish your chores for the day and do the best you can to close things up this evenin'. If I'm not back by mornin', just go on as usual. I'll definitely be back by this time tomorrow. "

Henry looked up at him with big, watery brown eyes.

"But what if you're not, Jack?"

Jack shifted a bit uncomfortably in the saddle, both at the prospect of the thought and the fact that it hadn't occurred to him before.

"Let's just cross the bridges as we come to 'em, alright? I won't leave you hangin', don't worry. Just do the best you can."

Henry just nodded. "Okay."

"There's a good man. See you tomorrow, buddy."

"Alright, bye Jack. Be careful over there."

With that, Jack gave Ol' Boy a nudge and click of his tongue to encourage him to trot onwards out of the barn and join the awaiting army, who were all standing right where John had fallen nearly four years ago.

* * *

><p>"We truly appreciate this, amigo," The Leader called over the fray of the thundering hooves as they made their way out of West Elizabeth. "I hope you had enough help to watch your hacienda."<p>

"My what?" Jack called back, unfamiliar with the Spanish.

The Leader coughed apologetically. "Your…eh, rancho?"

"Oh! Yeah, I'm not worried about that. My ranch-hand Henry can take care of things while I'm gone."

A soldier beside him laughed rather heartily.

"Ranch-hand?" he cackled. "I hope you don't mean that nino pequeno cowering from us in your barn!"

Jack frowned at him and the accompanying soldiers, all of whom were not being at all subtle about the humor they found in Henry's small size and the faith his employer had invested in him.

"Henry is a very capable young man. For cheap ranch help, he's one of the best around. I wouldn't have left my family's farm in the hands of just anyone."

'_He also wasn't cowering in that barn,' _Jack thought to himself smugly. _'It was all I could do to keep him from shooting the ever-loving hell out of all of you. In hindsight, maybe I should have given him a fair chance…'_

"If you say so, amigo!" another soldier chuckled.

"Now if I ain't mistaken, I do believe I'm doin' you gentleman a favor, here."

"Si, he is right!" The Leader called out, a bit too little too late. "Callate!"

Realizing that he had not yet learned the names of any of these men, Jack decided to speak up and point it out. Truthfully though, he could think of no better use for this knowledge than the general necessity in knowing a man's name. He really wanted no more to do with them after this mission and though avoiding being cordial just might have seemed like the answer to this issue, he knew it could no more guarantee it than anything else.

"Since we're goin' all this way together, I guess I might as well know yall's names."

"Of course!" The Leader said happily. "I am General Marco Rivera. These are my soldiers Carlos, Juan, Oscar, y Pablo."

Jack nodded to them curtly, not sure which one was meant to be which.

"I suppose under different circumstances it'd be nice to meet all of you. I go by Jack, myself."

"So, Jack," said General Rivera. "If you do not mind me asking, what happened to John?"

"Well, it's sort of complicated, but I guess we got the time. My father was trying to reform himself from a life of crime and ended up jumpin' through a few hoops for our government in the hopes that they might turn a blind eye to his shady past. But then when it was all said and done and he was ready to settle down with his family, the agents ambushed and shot him right here on this property, like any huntin' dog that gets old and useless."

The General shook his head, seemingly legitimately upset by this news.

"That is a shame."

"You're tellin' me," Jack agreed, softly. "What does your President want with him anyhow?"

The General paused for a moment and adjusted himself as best he could in his saddle before answering back.

"There are problems in our country, Senor."

Jack scoffed. "You don't say."

"Your father helped President Reyes overthrow Allende six years ago," The General continued. "Now, the same is happening to him. He needs to create a force that will protect him.

"And he thought my father would single-handedly take care of all this for him?"

"To be honest, Senor, I don't know for sure what President Reyes is thinking. I know he is very desperate right now."

"Well, that's obvious. I hate to disappoint him."

* * *

><p>The remaining journey over the border and through the Mexican countryside was fairly quiet, save for the conversation among the men entirely in Spanish. Jack couldn't help but wonder if they were talking about him, plotting how they were going to kill him and take all of his money or something of the like.<p>

But certainly the fact that he was so eager for cash was indication enough that he didn't have any. There was little use to be killing him, really, for anyone's sake, so he supposed he didn't have to be too worried about that- at least not yet.

They finally arrived in Escalera around dusk, though the lack of abundant sunlight did not hide the lavishness of the mansion Reyes allegedly dwelled in. Jack couldn't help but stare at it as he dismounted.

"Good god, your president lives _here_?" he exclaimed to the surrounding soldiers. "Y'all sure this Reyes ain't confused himself with a King?"

The soldier Jack had gathered was named Pablo, grabbed him swiftly by the upper arm.

"I would keep your voice down, if I were you, gringo," he warned through gritted teeth. "Reyes doesn't like rebeldes attitudes."

Jack jerked his arm away. "I bet he doesn't," he answered tersely, proceeding to follow General Rivera and the rest of his men up the first few stairs of the mansion.

They did not have to get far, however, before an elegantly uniformed man appeared on the balcony with them. Jack supposed from his dress and assuming swagger that he could be none other than President Reyes himself.

"Rivera!" he called out warmly to the General. "Está con usted?"

The General neglected to answer him as President Reyes got close enough to see the men more in-depth, examining the company rather thoroughly. He seemed a bit bewildered, no doubt by the absence of the man he had requested and turned to the General, incredulous.

"Dónde está?" he demanded, his warm demeanor gone completely.

"Senor," The General began shakily. "Hay una pequeña problema..."

President Reyes' patience had obviously been tried too far.

"Que?" he shouted, clenching his fists. "Dónde está John?"

Having seen enough of the display of machismo, Jack stepped forward.

"I believe I'm the one you'll wanna talk to, Senor."

Reyes looked from The General to Jack disbelievingly, his anger evidently growing.

"Quien es esto?" he cried.

"El es Jack Marston, su hijo." the General explained calmly.

President Reyes stepped up dangerously close to the General, staring him dead in the eye.

"No quiero a su hijo, Rivera!" he reiterated, grappling a handful of the fabric on the front of the General's uniform. "Dónde está John Marston?"

Jack may not have been particularly fond of General Rivera or his men, but he most certainly didn't appreciate the way they were being openly berated –and on the General's part, humiliated- by their President and his need to abuse power. As such, he intervened once more, sidling close to the General so that he could look squarely at President Reyes.

"John Marston is muerte, Senor. That's why I'm here."

"Muerte?" Reyes gasped, releasing his hold on the General. "When? How?"

"Shot down by his government," Jack answered, wondering to himself how many times he was going to have to explain it before the day was over. "That's the long and short of it, I'd say."

Reyes suddenly laughed, seeming to have suddenly regained his pleasant demeanor from before. He even took the time to smooth out the part of the General's uniform that he had grabbed.

"Oh. I apologize, Senor," he smiled. "I just thought my worthless men had messed things up again! That seems to be the only thing they are good at, eh?"

Jack shrugged, unimpressed. "If you say so."

"Why don't you come inside for a drink or two?" Reyes offered, gesturing towards a sitting area to the far end of the covered part of the balcony. "It's the least I can do for making you come all this way."

"That's very generous of you, Senor, but I really gotta be gettin' back to my ranch."

Reyes was having none of it, however, as he placed a very much unwanted arm around Jack's shoulders and began leading him towards the sitting area as though they were old friends.

"Please, I insist! Just one drink. I must hear about what happened to your father."

"I do believe I've already told you that." Jack scoffed.

Reyes came to a sudden stop, releasing his hold so that he could take a step in front of his guest and make better eye contact. He was, by far, one of the most untrustworthy men Jack had ever come across and he could tell that just by looking into his eyes.

"Why did you come here, Senor Marston?" Reyes asked, challengingly.

"Haven't we already been through this song and dance?" Jack rallied back, thoroughly irritated. "Your men came to my property lookin' for my father. I came here to tell you he was dead. End of story."

"Are my men not capable of relaying a message now?" Reyes laughed. "Dios mio, they must be more incompetent than I thought."

Jack paused only for a moment, knowing that if he told the truth about their needing him to corroborate the story, it might just get them all in more hot water. He still did not consider the General and his men friends, but if he could spare them any of Reyes' wrath he would gladly do so in heartbeat.

"Not exactly. I thought it might seem a bit more legitimate if I came and told you myself. Seems like I made the right choice, seein' how you treat your men."

Reyes just laughed again, but not so loud that Jack couldn't hear the small gasps coming from the General and his men at the outright display of disrespect.

"How much did they offer you, Senor Marston? Hm?"

Jack refused to answer, once again out of the interest of protecting the General. In turn, Reyes glanced at the General with a look of pure malice in his eyes.

"Cuanto dinero, cabrón?"

"Leave him alone, Reyes," Jack said, knowing enough Spanish to understand his name-calling. "I came here on my own freewill."

It now appeared as if Reyes' anger was no longer being spared of Jack, as he was currently glaring at him pointedly. The General seemed to have sensed this almost immediately.

"Senor Marston, por favor," he begged to Jack privately, gently nudging him to the side before turning back to his President. "Senor, I offered him one hundred American dollars to accompany us back. He wouldn't have come otherwise."

Reyes just grinned. "I see. Well, Senor Marston, perhaps it means enough to you to accept my offer? "

Jack paused, contemplating this a moment. "Nope, I think it means a little bit _more_."

"You drive a hard bargain!" Reyes chuckled again, once more abandoning his anger completely. "You are certainly John's son. Very well, of course! What I must tell you is important and I will spare no expense. Now please, come and rest! I am paying you for it!"

Jack sighed and shrugged, not eager to stay and spend any amount of time with Reyes at all, but in desperate need of money and in no position to dispute an offering of it.

"Well...I did come all this way. I guess if you got the money, I got the time."

"Bien! This way."

Jack was lead accordingly to the sitting area and offered a variety of drinks and refreshments, all of which he was able to turn down aside from the obligatory pulque that Reyes had insisted he partake in. Once they were settled in, Reyes leaned across the table as if to engage Jack in a secret.

"Now, you must tell me about John," he said confidingly.

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you knew him."

"Of course, I mean the cause of his death."

"Which I've already told you. He was shot down by some government agents. I trust you knew why he came here in the first place, why he wanted to find Javier Escuella?"

Reyes smiled apologetically, a gesture that was clearly forced.

"Not particularly, I'm afraid. Your father was a bit reserved."

"I'm sure he was," Jack sighed. "I'm sure your lack of knowledge is because of that, not because of a selective memory."

"Enlighten me, Senor," Reyes asked, offering a smile that was even more suspicious than anything he had done yet.

Jack rolled his eyes and finished his pulque in one swig before starting in on yet another explanation of his father's legacy.

"My father was sent here to find Escuella, Bill Williamson, Dutch Van Der Linde...all the members of his gang. He did this so the government might have pardoned him from the life he had tried to leave. As you know, he did all of this, managing to get wrapped up with your country's problems in the process. He finally came home and it looked like we were gonna be a family again until those agents showed up and blew some holes in him."

Reyes shook his head. "That is a shame. Your father was a good man."

"A mighty useful one, too, apparently. Let's cut to the chase, Reyes, what did you want with him?"

He laughed again, looking at his guest disbelievingly. "What did I _want _with him?"

Jack was definitely beyond the point of having lost his patience. He sat up straight in his chair and looked President Reyes straight in the eye.

"We both know why I'm here and there's no point pretending differently. I don't have time to dance around this with you, anyway. Tell me what you wanted from him and why you've insisted to speak privately with me."

Reyes was evidently losing his nerve, as well as his will to be facetious. Jack could tell he was seething beneath the surface from his refusal to buy the false smiles and charming words he was trying to sell and it would not take a lot for him to drop the fake act at this point and give him a more genuine reaction. Considering, however, that this _reaction _could manifest in having Jack shot, he decided that he might want to be more delicate with his host's feelings. He was certain, after all, that he had better things to do with his life than be killed at a very young age in the heart of Mexico.

"Your father was a great man," Reyes repeated, this time significantly more grave. "And a dear friend of mine. If anyone would be there for me at a time like this, when I needed them most, it would have been John."

"I'm afraid I don't understand exactly what it is you wanted my father to do for you," Jack said, sincerely confused.

"Anything," Reyes said simply. "And everything. He helped get me to this place, I _know _he could help keep me here. He owes me, after all. You may not know this, Senor, but I single-handedly saved his life."

Jack shook his head. "His debt to you is not mine."

There was an uncomfortable pause before President Reyes finally nodded his head in understanding and stood from his chair.

"I understand, Senor. There is no guarantee you would have been as useful as John in any case. But it is getting late and we are both busy men. Collect your payment from General Rivera and you may be on your way. Buenas noches."

He then turned and headed back within the villa, his hands clasped firmly behind his back and his posture rigid.

Jack simply rolled his eyes and sighed once more, wondering what purpose in the world this trip served for anyone aside from the collection of 100 dollars. He, too, then rose and gathered his reimbursement without a fuss from the General before descending the steps of the villa and mounting Ol' Boy to begin the rather lengthy trip back home.

For the time being, he was concerned only with wolves on the way back, given that it was already nightfall and the prime hour for their hunting. It did not occur to him at any moment that the true horror would be awaiting him at home.


	3. Chapter 2 Nosalida

_Chapter 2- Nosalida_

He was busting down his own door the moment he arrived, the black automobile parked haphazardly outside of the ranch house being evidence enough that all was not as it should be.

Sure enough, there sitting at the dining room table were two unmistakable government agents, identifiable by their dark suits and stoic faces.

The two men rose when he arrived, as if he were someone of great importance. Their display of gallant consideration wasn't fooling him, however.

"Mr. Jack Marston, I presume?" the tallest one asked.

Jack simply narrowed his eyes.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing on my property?"

The tall man smirked slightly. "I see we have found the right man. I am Mr. Archer Fordham, and this is my associate Mr. Howard Sawicki. We're government representatives."

Jack recognized Howard Sawicki as the man who inadvertently led him to Edgar Ross, and the reminder of that made him realize that this exchange would either end in his arrest or blackmail, not unlike the fate of his father. At the very least, he wasn't going to make it easy for them.

"I know what you are," he said tersely. "I would know what you are from a mile away."

Archer Fordham chuckled and stepped around the table from where he had been sitting.

"I get the feeling that Mr. Sawicki and I are not very welcome here, Mr. Marston. That's fine, I expected nothing less, considering, especially, the news we're here to impart to you."

"What news?" Jack demanded to know, stepping closer to show a lack of intimidation.

"It's your farm, Mr. Marston," Howard Sawicki explained. "As you may know, it hasn't been exactly thriving, financially, and the fact of the matter is, it's taking up a lot of valuable land space- space that the government would like to free-up for something that _could _justify it's existence."

Jack felt himself tense with sheer, undivided anger.

"You're tellin' me you want to take my land?" he challenged, his voice rising. "You're tellin' me you have the fucking gall to come on to _my property_, after killing my father in cold blood, and threaten to take the last piece I have of my family away from me? Gentleman, you have severely underestimated me if you think I'm going to sit idly by and accept threats while watching you just help yourself to my farm."

Archer Fordham, at that point, seemed to switch instantly from amused and tolerant to completely serious and grave.

"I'd like for you to not confuse my being a government agent with your father's death. I had no part to play in that and neither did Mr. Sawicki. As it is now, we are simply doing our jobs."

He stepped a bit closer to Jack before saying in an almost whisper, "I had a lot of respect for your father, I want you to understand that. The way his situation was handled has never sat right with me. Please do not lump me together with things Mr. Ross did to your family."

"Spare me the martyrdom," Jack scoffed, backing away. "I'll buy that you're an allegedly more considerate man than Edgar Ross and that you didn't like what he did to my father, but you sure as hell didn't do anything to stop him either- neither of you did. Now you're here to come revoke his farm. As far as I'm concerned, you're no different or better than any of the other agents, I don't care how many tears you shed or violins you played for poor John Marston."

"We're actually here to help you, Mr. Marston," Sawicki offered, interrupting whatever defensive line was about to erupt out of Fordham. "Give you fair warning, as it were, and perhaps even direct you towards a method of saving this ranch. We think you deserve enough time to defend your position before a power higher than we throws you several hundred dollars, kicks you out on your ass, and builds a railway through here."

"Otherwise," Fordham almost growled. "We could make things significantly uglier for you. We're not idiots, after all, Mr. Marston. Don't think we couldn't put two and two together when witnesses reported a young man fitting your description to a tee looking for Edgar Ross right before he was found shot near Rio Del Toro. You really made a misstep, if I may say so, involving Emily and Philip Ross in your search and even shooting him within Philip's range of hearing."

Jack maintained his poker-face, but stilled in his efforts to argue. He had known, even at the time, that it was unwise to just resort to questioning Emily and Philip like that, leaving a trail of witnesses behind him. At the time, however, he'd had very little reason or justification to keep going, so he figured if they wanted to arrest and hang him for the death of an important government figure, there wasn't much for him to lose. He had been sloppy because he simply didn't care. Bonnie and Drew had changed that and given him a sense of self-preservation, a reason to go on, hence why he stayed quiet now and decided to be obedient to whatever the men told or asked of him.

"Now then," Sawicki said after a time, clearing his throat. "We'd like to inform you of the fact that our governor, Mr. Nate Johns, can be a rather obliging man when given the proper motivation. If you were to work-in a meeting with him we're rather certain that he might be willing to strike a deal with you."

"A meeting with the governor?" Jack repeated, chuckling slightly. "And how do you propose I make that happen?"

"As you may or may not know, Mr. Marston," Fordham said. "This country has been run for decades on unscrupulous practices- bribery and blackmail and the like. And, as you also may or may not know, our governor is not entirely above those principles. I do believe that if you were to appeal to these beliefs, shall we say, you might find him rather available to you. Just an idea, though. Do what you will."

The two men then began to move towards the front door, replacing their hats as they did so.

"I suppose this is where we'll leave you, Mr. Marston," Sawicki said.

"Best of luck to you and your farm," Fordham added, seemingly legitimate in this wish despite his frustration with Jack's attitude.

Jack simply nodded and exhaled deeply the moment the door closed behind them, wandering how in the world he was going to save his ranch.

* * *

><p>He found himself forced to leave Henry in-charge for another day as he prepared to visit Blackwater. Henry was only more agreeable to it this time for the mere fact that Blackwater was only a skip and a jump from the farm and, often, their destination for occasional barter and trade. Jack would certainly be back before lunchtime, that is, if all went according to plan.<p>

The problem was, of course, anticipating what that 'plan' could be. He had never exactly been in the business of weaseling his way into meetings with the governor before. It seemed a feat that was above his head and he couldn't help but think that the agents were just leading him on some wild goose chase (what motivation they'd have for that, however, Jack hadn't yet reasoned out). But Jack didn't really have any other options at his disposal and he was determined to fight this thing every which way he knew how. So to Blackwater he went, straight to the building in which the governor's offices were located.

When he got inside he noticed that everything was rather quiet and barren, so he resorted to following signs directing towards Nate Johns' main offices rather than asking for help (the few people that did appear to be on duty were keeping themselves heavily occupied behind desks and did not seem immediately eager to help a renegade cowboy such as himself). The main offices were located on the highest floor and, as far as Jack could see, were protected only by a rather young woman who was also working diligently behind a desk. The fact that she managed to look up from her work and smile at him, however, immediately erased any apprehension he had about utilizing his potential plan to charm his way in.

"Good mornin', sir," she greeted him, pleasant if not evidently overwhelmed. "What can I do for you today?"

Jack tipped his hat as he approached her desk.

"Same to you, miss. I was just wondering if I might be able to get audience with Mr. Johns this morning? I don't need too much of his time, just wanted to have a word."

The young woman bit her lip and began to shuffle through a small appointment book.

"Uhm...yes, well...do you have an appointment with him, Mr...?"

"Marston, and, no, I unfortunately do not. The matter I need to discuss with him is rather urgent and I didn't have the time to contact him beforehand."

The young woman frowned apologetically. "Well, I'm very sorry, Mr. Marston, but Mr. Johns doesn't see anyone without an appointment. He's rather busy right now, you see, after havin' been gone on vacation for awhile. I could write somethin' in for you, though, if you'd be agreeable to that?"

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "How soon would I be able to see him?"

"I think...sometime next month?" she offered, glancing at the book once more.

"I'm afraid that won't do, miss, I need to see him rather quickly," Jack sighed, shuffling his feet for a moment before an idea occurred to him. He then sauntered over to the young woman's desk and leaned against it casually.

"What's your name, miss, if you don't mind me asking?" he said with a slight smile.

She looked at him with rather wide eyes. "Miss Thompson, sir..."

"No, no," Jack said, waving his hand. "I don't mean your formal name, I can see it right there on your desk. I mean what's your _name_?"

"Oh," she blushed. "It's Margaret."

"Margaret..." he mused. "That's a rather beautiful name, if it's not too bold for me to say so. Do many people call you that?"

"Oh, heavens no," she giggled. "I'm Miss Thompson just about everywhere 'round here. Though, my pa calls me 'Maggie."

"Maggie? Well, I do believe I like that name even more! You mind if I call you Maggie? You can call me Jack if that'll put us on a more even keel."

Maggie was now blushing a deeper red than a vine-ripened tomato and continuing to chuckle rather profusely.

"Well, I imagine that'd be just fine, _Jack_, though I wouldn't let my pa hear you talkin' to me like that."

"You're right, Miss Maggie, forgive me. I'm sure your young man would be similarly displeased."

"Oh heavens above, I don't have a young man!" she exclaimed, smiling bashfully.

"You don't? Well, I find that downright hard to believe. If you didn't have such an angelic face I'd think you were lying to me, Miss Maggie."

Maggie just laughed again, somehow blushing even harder as she attempted to occupy herself once more with her work.

"Listen, Miss Maggie," Jack said after a time, leaning in closer to her on the desk. "I've got myself a failing farm that the government is threatening to take and build a railway through. I need to see Mr. Johns this morning so I can explain to him just how important that land and ranch is to me. It's where my ma and pa are buried, after all. I'd hate to disappoint them as they look down on me, expectin' me to carry on what they worked so hard to establish."

Maggie looked up at him then with an expression of pure shock and disbelief.

"Your parents...? Oh, you poor man!"

"It's all I got left of 'em, you see," Jack explained. "I don't rightly know what I'd do if that last bit of their memory was taken away."

Maggie sighed rather loudly.

"Forgive me, Mr. Marston, I didn't quite understand the circumstances of your situation. Please, go on in to Mr. Johns' office. He'll have time to see you."

Jack looked up at her, smiling widely.

"You mean that, Miss Maggie? Well, saints be praised, you really _are _an angel."

He took her hand and kissed it quickly, making her giggle loudly once more, before making his way hurriedly into the main office.

Inside said main office was an older man lounging in his desk chair, feet propped up on the desk surface, leisurely smoking a cigar. Jack knew in that moment that he had to be looking at none other than the acclaimed governor of West Elizabeth himself.

"Morning, sir," Jack said cordially, tipping his hat brim for the second time. "I trust I'm not interrupting anything."

Nate Johns jumped a little at the unexpected sound of Jack's voice, and quickly dropped his feet from his desk as he let himself get a good look at the young man who had just walked in to his office.

"How the hell did you get in here?" he demanded to know.

Jack shrugged. "Don't reckon it matters since I'm in here now."

Johns scoffed a little as he placed his cigar in the nearby ashtray on his desk.

"Yeah, well...what do you want, son?"

"How about my family farm insured against this bloodthirsty operation you've got running here?"

"Come again?" Johns asked, squinting his eyes in confusion.

Jack then came over quickly to the governor's desk, slapping down a written notice that had been left for him by the government agents, explaining his situation in writing.

"Maybe that'll clear things up a little," he spat.

Johns gathered the notice in one hand and took a moment to scan it, getting the general idea of it's purpose.

"Oh, I see..." he said, licking his lips nervously. "Well, you understand, Mr...uh..."

"_Marston._"

Johns blinked several times and looked at Jack almost disbelievingly.

"I-I-I'm sorry, you're-"

"Jack Marston, my father was _John Marston_. I'm sorry, Mr. Governor, does that name ring a bell? Does he sound like someone you've commissioned to have killed before?"

Johns quickly rose from the desk and began a walk around it to come closer to Jack.

"Now, now, that was Edgar Ross and his bureau's business, not mine."

"You didn't exactly do anything to stop it though, did you? Well now I'm asking you, point blank, to make that the end of the things you and your government take away from me. It's not my father, but I'd like to keep my land. It's all I've got left of my family."

Despite his appeal to pathos, Jack kept his resilient expression. Johns did not appear to have been immune to this emotional plea, however, as the look on his face was nothing less than that of pure guilt.

"Once again, Mr. Marston," he sighed. "I'm being faced with an issue that is completely out of my jurisdiction."

"Don't give me that shit," Jack snapped. "You're the goddamned governor. You may be one yellow-bellied son of a bitch, but don't you try to tell me you ain't got the authority to make this right."

Johns narrowed his eyes and stepped up closer to Jack.

"Now see here, son," he said pointedly. "There's a helluva lot more at work here than you'd think. You think you're the only damn person losing a farm out here? Well, you sure as hell aren't. Any rural establishment not justifying it's presence financially is going to get claimed by the government- that's just the way it works. We're all having to make sacrifices here, least of all you."

"You wouldn't know the first damn thing about sacrifice," Jack muttered, loud enough so the governor could hear.

"What the hell do you expect me to do, Mr. Marston?"

"I expect you to do your damn job of protecting your people and give me my farmland back. I really hope you're not expectin' me to just walk out on this meeting in shame, 'cause I just ain't that kind of person, Mr. Johns. Edgar Ross knew that better than anybody."

The mention of Edgar Ross seemed to trigger an element of realization in the governor, as Jack had hoped it would.

"Alright, Marston, you've made your point loud and clear," he said finally. "Maybe we can work out some sort of deal. You happen to be a gunslinger like your pa?"

Jack shook his head.

"No, sir. I'm a rancher."

Johns just smirked at him knowingly before walking to a side window to look out of it, pensively.

"Well, I reckon you can handle yourself well, given how well-equipped you are today. If I were to, say, get you to run a few errands for me in return for your land, you'd get them done, wouldn't you?"

Jack shifted a little, uneasy.

"What kinda errands are we talkin' about here?"

"In order to justify sparing your farm, you're gonna have to come up with a nice sum of money. In this case, however, I think having a bit left-over to cushion my salary wouldn't hurt nothing either. I hear President Reyes down in Mexico is sitting on such a sum. Word has it your Pa got pretty close with him and his rebels back in the day, too. Think you've got the same affinity with them, Marston?"

Jack sighed, realizing that he should have known he'd find himself going back to Escalera at some point.

"Too early to say, but I'd reckon I've got an advantage of some kind."

"Good, that'll help you out," Johns said, making a slow return to his desk. "Think you could have it to me in about a month or less?"

"I sure can try, so long as you swear on your likely grave that you'll stay a man of your word."

Johns grinned again as he sat back down.

"It would seem I have no other option."

"I'm glad we understand each other, then."

Jack then nodded his head in farewell before exiting back out the way he came, giving Maggie a similar nod and obligatory wink before returning back outside to his horse.

* * *

><p>Perhaps unsurprisingly, getting an audience with President Reyes the second time was not nearly as easy as it had been the first time around. Jack was directed to 'siéntate y espera, por favor' until he was available. He saw no reason to try and flirt with anyone at this juncture, given that he did not speak nearly enough Spanish to be charming and that it was already a foregone conclusion Reyes would speak with him eventually, he just wanted to keep him waiting a bit longer, out of spite.<p>

Jack didn't really have the time to do so, seeing as how he was technically paying Henry's father to come help out on the ranch while he was gone on these extended travels, but again, he had no choice. The ranch needed money, Reyes happened to have it, and Jack was being forced to play his games, which at this point seemed to be waiting for however long Reyes deemed was appropriate.

Jack did so for a solid hour until Reyes finally came sauntering out into the main lobby, looking more self-satisfied than ever.

"Mr. Marston!" he exclaimed, holding out his arms welcomingly. "You came back! Imagine that. I do wonder what could have changed your mind?"

Jack stood and adjusted his belt, determined to do his best job of lying yet.

"I guess I realized that my father left more responsibilities to me when he died than just a ranch. He owes you a life, like you said, so the least I could do is volunteer myself up to you to fulfill that debt. I just hope I'm enough."

Reyes laughed and patted him affectionately on the back.

"If you are as good at handling a weapon as your father, as I am sure you are, I think you will do just fine. Tell me, do you know of Nosalida?"

"Sure," Jack answered. "It used to be over-run by your men, didn't it?"

"Not my men any longer," Reyes corrected. "The same, though now they are _dissatisfied _with my government. Fools. Have they forgotten how hard they fought to put me in power?"

"Given how angry they seem to be, I doubt it."

Reyes scoffed slightly.

"Well, never mind that. You and I will soon show them what it means to oppose me. Mr. Marston, I want _you_ to lead a force of my men into Nosalida and kill or capture every last pinche rebelde you find."

Jack stilled, feeling his insides churn at the concept of having to murder potentially innocent people in the name of sneaking Reyes' fortune out from under him.

"You sure you want 'em all _killed_?" he asked. "Have you tried to talking to 'em at all? To reason with them? Maybe find out what they want you to change?"

"I suspect you have a rather tender heart under all of those guns and bullets, Mr. Marston," Reyes grinned. "John did too, you know, but even he would do as he was told when given the proper motivation. Now, do as I say, do not question my motives, and I will reward you even more handsomely than I did before."

Jack again paused, feeling more morally torn than he had in a long while. Now not only was Reyes asking him to kill blindly, he was implying that he and his father were no better than dumb work horses with carrots dangling in front of their noses. But he knew he couldn't give up everything this easily. The farm deserved and needed to be fought for and if that meant stepping out of his comfort zone and even losing a bit of dignity in the process, then so be it.

"Fine," he relented after a time. "When would you want me to go?"

* * *

><p>Jack was on the road with General Rivera and a group of Reyes' men before sundown, making their way down the road from Escalera into Nosalida.<p>

"There is no secretive way into Noslida," the General mentioned as he rode up on par with Jack. "We shall have to be prepared to charge in."

"Guns ablazing," Jack muttered, before nodding back to the General. "Understood, sir. Though I have something of an idea I'd like to present to you, if we could stop early, just far enough away that we could have a word without being seen."

The General thought for a moment before nodding.

"Si, it is possible. I will inform the men."

Stop they did, just a mile or two away from their destination, hidden as well as they could be behind some rocks. Jack knew it wasn't the best idea, considering that it upped their chances of being detected, but this was important enough to take the risk, as far as he was concerned.

"General, I want to talk to them," he explained in a low voice. "Before we do anything aggressive, I want to try to to have words with the rebels. No one needs to die."

The general shot him a puzzled look.

"Talk to them? What do you plan to say?"

"I dunno...that someone cares about their opinion, I suppose...that maybe, just maybe, we can try to reason with Reyes together and come to some sort of compromise."

The general laughed and looked at Jack sympathetically.

"Senor Marston, President Reyes was right- you are a good man. But the President, he does not want to talk or listen, he only wants to see those who disagree with him dead. Besides, my men will not be agreeable to this. They are deathly afraid of opposing their leader."

"Then we won't tell 'em what we're doing," Jack offered. "Just tell them to hold their fire for a second when we arrive, long enough to let the gringo talk. If any of 'em want to shoot me after that, then so be it."

The general sighed, but eventually nodded in reluctant agreement. He shifted his horse and went back over to the accompanying men to explain the plan as ambiguously as possible. Jack, meanwhile, looked out in the direction of Nosalida, knowing, despite his lack of Spanish, that the name translated to _no exit_. He felt it was eerily applicable.

* * *

><p>They chose to arrive by the main path, rather than come over the hill firing instantly, as they had originally planned. Jack's logic was that coming up directly like that, at a slow trot, would let the rebels know that they meant no immediate harm. Furthermore, he was leading the charge, letting the uniformed men trail a ways behind him, unseen.<p>

He was spotted instantly, though thankfully the initial response was not to shoot, but rather to whisper frantically among themselves and look at him, bewildered and confused.

"Buenas tardes," he called out to the nearest rebel- a man, cradling his rifle warningly. "Uhm...donde esta su...leader?"

The man just narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Yo soy...pacifico, Senor. Lo siento, no habla Espanol."

"Alto!" the man commanded, placing up a hand. "Espere aqui!"

He then disappeared into the small establishment, and Jack noticed at that point that most of the other rebels had also made themselves scarce behind buildings. He didn't know whether to interpret that as a positive sign or not, but he kept himself still as death so as not to rouse any of the hiding rebels or accidentally give the army the signal to advance forward.

The man eventually returned, accompanied by another rebel who Jack could only assume was the leader he had requested. He was heavily covered, however, by a bandanna around his mouth, a large sombrero, and a poncho that concealed most of his frame. When they made eye contact, Jack was rather struck by his eyes, which seemed rather shapely and piercing for a man's.

"You must leave," the leader said without hesitation, his voice rather raspy. "We are not in the business of making deals with foreigners. Now please pass through quietly. You have my word that we will not harm you if you do as I say."

"With all due respect, Senor, I'm not trying to just pass through. I'd like to talk to you, if you've got the time-"

"I am not interested in talking to you, gringo!" he interjected rather loudly. "Leave quietly before I have you shot!"

"Now, look, I'm trying to avoid a problem here with you. If you would just listen to me-"

It was at the moment, however, that a rebel in the distance cried, "Federales!" and shot his rifle, apparently hitting one of them or their horses, Jack couldn't be sure. General Rivera wasted no time calling the order to charge, and Jack's plan for a peaceful confrontation was immediately dashed.

He looked back at the leader who he had realized too late had drawn his pistol. The leader quickly shot him in the upper arm and the proximity of the sound caused Ol' Boy to rear up, whinny in fear, and take off in the opposite direction, inadvertently tossing Jack to the ground in the process. Jack cried out from all of the sudden pain, but tried his best to reach for his pistol with his left hand -the one he never used-. The act was in vain, as the leader had already commanded several rebels to surround him with rifles pointed at his face. As they proceeded to un-arm him, Jack could hear the sounds of the stand-off raging around them, wishing that he would have been more clever and better able to prevent all of this.

The crowd of rebels then gathered him up into their arms and began to carry him off to a house that was far from the action while the familiar sound of their leader's unusual voice shouted commands to them.

Jack could not even begin to conceive ideas for what they could have wanted with him, or what was motivating them to take him captive. Perhaps it was a hostage situation to get leverage, he had no earthly idea.

What he did know, however, was that despite his hand placed squarely over the gunshot wound, he was losing blood rather quickly and feeling dizzy because of it. Gradually, he gave into the increasingly tempting desire to succumb to this drowsiness and the last thing he saw before closing his eyes was the glow of fresh fires as they lit up Nosalida.


	4. Chapter 3 El Espia

_Chapter 3- _El Espia

"Despertate!" a voice cried, repeatedly, as a hand shook him roughly by the shoulder.

Jack really had no choice but to awaken and attempt to remember why he would have been in an unfamiliar shack with someone shouting commands in Spanish to him. Thankfully, it didn't take long for him to recall the former situation.

Because of this, he glanced at the place where he had been shot, finding it to have been clearly tended to already, bound as it was by gauze and bandages.

"Ven comigo, ahora," the same voice commanded once more, Jack glancing over to see that it was another male rebel holding a rifle. "Pronto, gringo, rapido!"

He gathered rather quickly by the man's frantic tone and insistent pressing of the barrel of his rifle into his shoulder that he wanted Jack to get up and accompany him to an undisclosed location. Jack was, naturally, more than a bit reluctant to do this, but he was not exactly in a position to argue, being both unarmed and otherwise incapacitated.

He therefore complied, following the man out of the shack and back towards inner Nosalida, which was now more or less at peace if not undeniably charred. It also didn't take Jack very long to see that the Federales had most certainly not won-out in this exchange. Rebels walked freely among the wreckage and scattered Federales corpses. Jack tried not to look at them as he continued to follow the man, knowing that doing so would neither render them not-dead nor rid him of his guilt.

Finally, the man brought him to another shack in the heart of the small settlement and pushed him inside. Awaiting him within was the leader, the same, strange man from before that had remorselessly shot him in the arm.

"Vayase," the leader said to the other rebel calmly, watching him as he left and closed the door to the shack behind him.

"What do you want with me?" Jack asked instantly, staring him down.

The man simply turned his back and proceeded to remove his sombrero, then his bandanna, and then let his long black hair down to fall to his shoulders. When he turned back to face him, however, Jack realized that this was not a man at all, but a definite young woman.

"I beg your pardon," she said, her voice now in what he presumed to be its normal state. "It's rather uncomfortable to stay dressed like that. It is a necessity, however, when there are strangers or soldiers about."

"My question still stands," Jack reiterated, trying not to seem too surprised by her sudden transformation. "_What_ do you want with me?"

The young woman smirked slightly.

"To begin with, I'd like to know what you're scheming with Reyes. We're not idiots, after all. It's not very hard to spot a dumb gringo like yourself going back and forth between your country and ours, paying Reyes visits and then showing up at our hideout with Federales wanting to _talk_. Tell me, does subtlety really mean nothing to you Americans?"

"I wouldn't exactly call shooting me in the arm the epitome of that either, Senora," Jack retaliated. "Or your terrible disguise."

"It was enough to fool you, wasn't it?" she grinned. "Now tell me what business you have with Reyes or I'll shoot you in a place that can't be mended."

As if to emphasize her point, she clutched onto her holster that hung at her hip.

"Look, I'm not on his side or anything. He has something I need, so I'm doing his dirty work, just until I can get it. Yeah, he wanted me to lead a charge into here and kill all of you, but I was hoping you all might be willing to talk. I didn't want to kill anybody, honest to god."

"We don't talk anymore," she said tersely. "Especially not with Reyes. Even if he were to take the time to _listen_, it still would make no difference. The time to talk and reason is over. Now we must fight."

Jack shrugged. "Well, I guess you would know better. Far be it from me to judge."

"You will be judging no one ever again, gringo, because I do not think I will let you survive this encounter. It would be foolish to let a conspirator simply walk away."

She then pulled the pistol from her holster and pointed it squarely at his head.

"Now hold on one damn minute!" Jack exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm no conspirator, lady, I'm just doing what I have to to save my family's farm! This ain't about your country's politics!"

"It is when you get involved with Reyes and harm my people!" she cried out.

"I had no other choice! The only way the governor of my state was gonna spare my ranch is if I got this fortune Reyes is sitting on. He was apparently an acquaintance of my father's back in the day, so I'm just cashing that in to see if it can't give me some leverage. Don't lump me together with this Federales business."

The young woman stilled and lowered her pistol slowly.

"Your father? Who is your father and why does he know Reyes?"

"My father's name was John Marston," Jack answered with a sigh. "And there's no way in hell I would know what he had to do with Reyes. He never told me a blessed thing about that stuff."

The young woman gasped softly and quickly replaced her weapon.

"You are _John Marston_'s son?" she asked rhetorically. "Then, Senor, I cannot in good conscience kill you. John Marston saved my life four years ago. I am forever indebted to him."

"Saved you?" Jack repeated. "How, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Your father was a friend of my sister's, and by extension, Reyes, four years ago. He saved her, and then he saved me by transporting me safely to the docks to be taken to the Yucatan to work away from the revolution. He did not have to help my family, and yet he did. He was a good man and I know, despite my sister's death, that he did everything to protect her. Though I fear the answer, please tell me how he is."

Jack paused for a moment, feeling as though the delivery of the news should be significantly more delicate in this case than the others. This woman had clearly harbored a far more genuine and selfless affection for his father than any of his other supposed friends.

"He passed away not long after you met him," he explained gently. "Our government shot him down."

The young woman just stared at Jack for a moment before sniffing rather audibly and staring directly up at the small lamp hanging from the ceiling as if to help dry away the incoming tears.

"I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Marston. I know what it is like to have a father killed by one's government."

Her voice had become rather harsh and wavering, Jack noticed, and he couldn't help but soften a bit towards her and lose whatever spite he had for the shot in the arm or his decided kidnapping.

"It's just Jack," he said softly.

She nodded towards him, smiling understandingly.

"Miranda Fortuna. Despite everything, I am pleased to meet you, Jack Marston."

They were then quiet for a moment as they allowed the rather rapid realizations of each other to sink in. Miranda eventually sighed and walked around the desk she had been leaning on, apparently to load another pistol.

"Considering your circumstances, perhaps you have a better understanding for our motivations as rebeldes than I would have thought. Many of us have lost our loved ones to Reyes and his government."

"Well...I reckon I do in that case."

"Then I see no reason for you to not join us," she said, looking up at him. "In fact, I am rather confused as to why you did not approach us in the first place. You are far more likely to come across that fortune of yours with us after we have overthrown Reyes."

Jack gestured slightly with his head towards the wound in his upper arm.

"I'd think that'd be a good reason not to have come to you first thing. If you weren't such a terrible shot I'd at least be dead now and not completely unable to shoot anything."

Miranda laughed in her throat. "I assure you I had every intention of incapacitating you. I had to find out what deals you were making with Reyes before you were killed, after all, but thank Dios that we had this conversation. I would have never known you were John Marston's son otherwise. You really look nothing like him."

Jack inspected himself rather half-heartedly and fluffed his jacket a bit.

"Well, I had a mother too, you know. John didn't create me all on his own."

"Indeed," Miranda grinned. "In any case, welcome to the rebeldes, Jack. You are a fighter for Mexico now."

She then handed him the pistol she had been working on and he eyed it suspiciously.

"You promise me we'll get that fortune soon?" he asked, hesitant. "I'm not gonna join your gang and then have to wait a whole year before we get Reyes overthrown, am I?"

"A _gang_, Jack, is only as strong as it's members. If you want our revolution to be successful, and rapid, you have to do your part."

Jack placed the new pistol in his holster and exhaled loudly.

"I'll do what I can, but with this bum arm I'm not sure I'm gonna be much help."

"It will heal soon enough," Miranda promised, ushering him out the door. "In the meantime, however, we need you to keep fraternizing with Reyes. You will be our spy, in a manner of speaking. I do not think that will require you to have to shoot many things, but I will send my brother, Emilio, along with you just in case that is required."

Jack looked up as they stepped outside to see another fairly young rebel man approach him on a horse, glaring at him fixedly.

"Emilio will make sure you do not stray from us," Miranda continued. "But he will do so from a safe distance. He is rather stealthy, I assure you."

"I don't think I need a chaperone," Jack said defiantly, but quietly so that Emilio hopefully wouldn't be able to hear. "You can trust me."

Miranda laughed once more, throwing her head back.

"I've been around long enough to know that I should never believe those words from a man. I will trust you when you have proven yourself to me."

Jack shrugged, deciding that it was a fairly valid point.

"Fair enough."

He was then brought a steed who appeared to be rather underfed and possibly sick, though none of the other horses he could see were in a much better state. As he mounted, he made a mental note to go look for Ol' Boy later on when the opportunity presented itself and he hoped against hope that maybe he had just fled back to the ranch- and gotten there safely.

"Come back as soon as you have gathered more information," Miranda instructed.

Jack just nodded obediently.

"Sure thing, Miss Fortuna. Thanks for the pistol, in any case."

She nodded back and smiled briefly before he nudged the old steed in the side and set off with Emilio back towards Escalera.

* * *

><p>His arrival back was not nearly as warmly met as it had been previously. There were pistols and federales surrounding him almost as soon as he was spotted nearing the presidential villa, and he was quickly pulled off of his horse and brought, with tied wrists, to Reyes' inner-sanctum. As he was escorted there, he couldn't help but look over his shoulder to see what had become of Emilio.<p>

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he was gone- or, at least, scarce at the current moment. That was probably for the better of both of them.

"What have you done, Marston?" Reyes demanded to know the moment Jack was being thrown on his knees in the villa's lobby. "You call that massacre a victory for us, do you? I ask you to do one simple thing- clear out Nosalida. But no, you are as incompetent as any of my men! It is a wonder a man such as John fathered such an incapable louse."

"If it's so goddamned easy why don't you do it yourself?" Jack challenged, wrestling against his restraints. "Go ahead, Reyes, lead a charge of your own down there and see if you can't clear those rebels out. I'd _love _to see how well you fare."

"Don't talk back to me!" Reyes cried, kicking Jack squarely in the stomach, causing him to recoil. "I am the president! I can have you shot!"

"Go ahead then, shoot the ever-lovin' shit out of me," Jack hissed through his teeth, cringing against the pain. "And then you'll lose the only spy you've managed to place in with the rebels."

Reyes stilled, looking at Jack confusedly.

"_Spy_?"

"You heard me right. I carved in a nice little niche with them."

Reyes scoffed, disbelievingly. "You're not fooling me. Miranda Fortuna would not just allow in some pinche gringo like you."

"She would if my father had saved her- which he did," Jack pointed out. "Check my pistol, if you don't believe me. It's one of hers."

This Reyes did rather quickly, fervently glancing over every inch of the weapon. When he had apparently determined Jack's claim to be correct, he just laughed insincerely and placed it rather haphazardly on the nearest surface.

"Well then," he mused. "You _do_ seem to have wormed your way into Miranda Fortuna's favor. I suppose that should not surprise me. Being an attractive young man has it's advantages, until you get old and all you are left with is your lack of wits. In any case, you must realize this only makes you more suspicious. How can I trust you to be loyal to our government?"

Jack shrugged as best he could, considering his wound and restricted wrists.

"Beats the hell out of me."

"Then give me one reason why I should not shoot you on the spot."

"I haven't got one, Senor, other than pointing out, once again, that doing so would only be ridding you of your only spy- someone who could be of a great use to you, not to mention the fact you and my father still owe debts to each other. But hell, I'm the one tied and kneeling like a cheap whore on your floor. It's not like I'm going to do a whole helluvalot to stop you, either way."

Some of the men chuckled at this, and Reyes shot them all disapproving stares.

"You should count yourself lucky to have had a father such as him," he said simply, gesturing for Jack to be cut loose. "Otherwise, I'm sure that attitude of yours would have gotten you killed by now."

Jack just grit his teeth and rubbed his wrists from where they had been chafed from the rope, trying to keep one of his fists from launching into Reyes' face now that they were free.

"I want you to move these rebels outside of Nosalida. I do not care how you do it, I just want them to be scattered and unprepared. When they have relocated, we will strike and take them out."

Jack said nothing, tempted to argue but certain that it was wiser not to.

"I do not plan to give you much time to prove yourself to me," Reyes mentioned, his back turned to Jack completely. "So be sure you make the most of what you have, unlike that completely shameful first attempt at Nosalida. Let us hope you are better at espionage than battle, Senor Marston."

* * *

><p>Jack arrived back at Nosalida well into nightfall, followed once again by Emilio who had miraculously reappeared from who-knows-where. He found he wasn't very comfortable with that sort of stealthiness, particularly with someone who did not appear to like him much at all.<p>

Nosalida seemed to have been more or less cleaned out from the invasion, from what Jack could see in the dark. The bodies were gone -in a pile to be burned later, he would eventually find out- and the rubble had been moved and swept to the side to allow for easy passage among the wrecked buildings. Currently, it appeared as if the rebels were partaking in a community supper around a rather large fire, over which hung a pendulous cauldron. Whatever was cooking within smelled fairly appetizing and Jack was reminded of the fact that he had not eaten in a good while. He wondered if he was considered enough of a member of their outfit to be invited to eat.

It was at that moment, however, that Miranda Fortuna reappeared, rushing towards the two of them as they proceeded to dismount.

"What did you discover?" she asked, pressingly. "Anything important?"

"As a matter of fact, yes- something _very _important and of great interest to you, I'm sure."

"Well?" she continued, impatient. "What is it?"

Jack sighed and began to lead his horse over to the closest hitching post, pursued rather closely by Miranda who was growing more frustrated the longer he strung her out.

"For that information, mam, I'm going to require some reimbursement in the form of whatever is brewing over that fire."

Miranda glanced over in the direction of the cauldron, seemingly taken back by his benign request.

"Oh...oh! You want to eat?" She chuckled a bit, perhaps at the realization that he had been purposefully antagonizing her. "Of course, of course, come with me."

She seized his upper arm -thankfully not the one she had shot- and brought him over to the communal fire where she proceeded to ask one of her contemporaries for a bit of the food- or so Jack assumed, as he was soon handed a bowl -and spoon- of whatever had been cooking. She then grabbed him again, bringing him back to the shack where had she revealed her identity earlier in the day. He was beginning to get the impression that this was her central office, as it were.

He made himself comfortable with his bowl of soup across from her at the lone table in the room, happily digging in as she proceeded to question him once more.

"Please, Mr. Marston, tell me what the Federales are planning."

"You're not gonna like it," he warned. "Reyes wants me to somehow lead all of you out of Nosalida so that he can send a unit to attack you while you're unawares. Why he thinks I would have the power to do such a thing, I have no earthly clue..."

Miranda was silent a moment as she considered this.

"I had a very strong feeling he might try something like this next," she admitted, look pensive and conflicted. "I've been thinking over how we might overcome it, were he ever to do so. I must say, he's a rather predictable man."

"That's fortunate for you," Jack mentioned in between spoonfuls.

"Yes," she conceded with a nod. "But he is not easy to defeat. However, I think if we plan this _just so _and with much precision we may have a good chance of overtaking him."

"Might I point out that you all did a pretty good job of _overtaking_ him today, at least that's what it looked like from where I was standing."

"That was pure luck," she dismissed. "And we suffered quite a hit. We shall have to go on more than just good fortune if we're going to overtake his men and his fortress in one day."

"You plan to overtake the invasion forces _and _Escalera at one time?" Jack asked, incredulous. "You sure you're prepared for all that?"

Miranda smiled at him, a twinge of unmistakable impatience in her expression.

"Was it not you, Mr. Marston, who was eager for us to overtake Reyes' government as soon as possible?"

"Well, yeah, but I don't think it's a good idea to just rush into-"

"You'll forgive me, Senor," she cut in, her voice deceivingly calm. "If after your attempt to bring peace today I have significantly more faith in my abilities as a strategist than yours."

Jack could only chuckle a bit and put his hands up in a symbol of mock defeat. He was admittedly taken back by how evidently talented she was in defending her position- and putting him in his place.

"We are revolutionaries, Mr. Marston," she continued. "We are_ always_ prepared to overthrow Reyes' government."

"That's all well and good," he said, finishing his soup and scooting the bowl away from him a bit. "But if this thing doesn't pan out, I doubt I'm going to be welcomed into Escalera ever again- and there goes your inside man, Miss Fortuna."

"I don't have a choice, Mr. Marston, and neither do you. Victory is our only option."

Jack exhaled loudly, rubbing his eyes from a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.

"I just really don't think I have the right rebel attitude, if I'm honest. All I wanna do is get my fortune and get gone."

Miranda huffed and stood from her chair rather abruptly.

"I assure you this is about something much bigger than your farm, and if you cannot trouble yourself to have some sympathy for that, than I'm not sure I will be willing to help you any longer."

Jack did not consider himself an intuitive or personable man, but even he could tell that he had clearly offended her. It truly hadn't been his intent. Other than wanting to be honest and vent his feelings on the matter, he hadn't much intent to the statement at all. He regretted having say it to begin with, which was odd since he normally didn't care if he said or did something to rub someone the wrong way. Perhaps that was because_ those offenses_ were usually a matter of propriety and pompousness, something he could not possibly care less about. This, on the other hand, was a personal matter of honor on Miranda's behalf.

"I ain't trying to disrespect your cause, mam, honest to god," he promised, also rising from his chair and slowly pursuing her to where she had stormed off to stare out a dirtied window and keep her back to him. "I'm just feeling a little tired with everything, is all."

"You lost your father to your government," Miranda said. "As did I, as did many of these of people you see out here armed and prepared to fight. I let you join us only because I believed you would understand and sympathize with our cause."

"And I do!" he insisted. "I swear to it. I think it's down-right honorable what you're all doin' here, and if I can be of a real help to win this war, then I'll gladly do it. But I gotta look out for myself, too, Miss Fortuna, and I think we'd both be better off not forgetting what I came here for in the first place."

She turned to face him then, eyes fixated on him in a way that reminded him of the stare his mother would give when she knew he had done wrong and wanted him to admit it. Her tactic never failed, and he suspected Miranda's wouldn't either, piercing as her gaze was.

"I find myself in need of you, Mr. Marston, as you find yourself in need of me. I do not know if I can trust you as I did your father, but I do not have a choice. I can threaten you forever with a pistol, but in the end we both know I must rely on your honor as a man. For now, I want you to promise your allegiance to us from here until the end, and I want you to look me in the eyes as you do this."

Why he suddenly felt so inexplicably intimidated and nervous, like a sinner in church being inadvertently scolded by the pastor for his sins, he did not know. There was an indefinable quality to the woman before him that made him legitimately frightened to lie to or oppose her and perhaps, he thought, that is how she launched herself to a position of leadership as a female at such a young age.

So he did as she requested, looking her square in her sharp black eyes and telling her as sincerely as he possibly could,

"I promise."

This seemed satisfactory for her, as the formidable skepticism in her expression seemed to instantly fade into a soft, calm satiation.

"Very well. I will expect you back here at dawn to discuss the plans more in-depth. For the moment, ask anyone for 'un luga para dormir', and they will direct you to a place to sleep, if you wish it. You may leave."

Jack nodded, readying himself to leave, but pausing a moment by the door to turn and try to extend some friendly courteousness towards her.

"Uhm...you have a good night then, Miss Fortuna."

She continued to stare out the window at the sight of Nosalida, refusing to look back at him.

"Good night," she said simply and without much emotion.

He just scoffed and shook his head as he left, frustrated that there was some part of him that, for whatever reason, wanted to get past her evident wall and endear himself to her.


End file.
